Ugh More About Spiritual Teachers
I wrote some thoughts about “spiritual” “teachers” in a Twitter thread a few years ago:
But it turns out I have more to say. I was talking with friend a couple weeks ago who recently left her job at a meditation center and had feelings about it. We pondered, together, whether spiritual teachers are useful, and if so how. And further we asked each other: If you have been practicing for a long time, and have become more settled and present and compassionate and curious than you once were — how do you help? How do you share what you have gathered? For there is no benefit to keeping it. It goes bad if you keep it.
Thinking about all this I began to feel that the phrase “spiritual teacher” is kind of strange. It probably comes from the Japanese 老師, roshi, which in Classical Chinese (from which it migrated into Japanese) meant “old man,” but in modern Mandarin means teacher, albeit with the emphasis on old teacher; Sanskrit गुरु, guru, is usually translated “teacher” but in any other context just means “heavy” or “hard to digest.”
Be that as it may, I am coming to think the word “teacher” is dangerously misleading in this context.
There are realms in which techniques need to be taught, and once mastered, no longer need to be learned. In which one person knows things another person does not, and can write them on a chalkboard, and then both people know them.
Spirituality is not like that. Meditation is not like that.
Meditation instruction takes 20 minutes. For the next 20 years of practice, all a meditation “teacher” can say is “No, you’re probably not going crazy” and “No, you’re probably not enlightened,” followed by, “Keep sitting.”
Which is not to suggest that the relationship formed over those 20 years is unhelpful, shallow, or meaningless. It is, or can be, very, very deep, beautiful beyond words. But — nothing is being taught, and nothing is being learned. Maybe sometimes by example — but even that is rare.
Also, unlike learning a skill, like skateboarding, or algebra, there is no moment when you have “learned” meditation, when your practice of spirituality is “complete,” when you can stop studying (and maybe show somebody else how to do it). Your practice is a process that began long before you encountered it, and will continue after you die. The goal is to never stop.
The successful student is not one who, having “succeeded” in “getting it,” stops. The successful student is one who never stops.
My friend and I, in our talk, settled on “space holder” and “jester” as maybe better models than “teacher.” Maybe “bullshitter” is better than “jester.” Skillful means and all that.
But the fact is that people, without being forced or seduced, gather together, and practice, and encourage each other in their practice, and awaken together. This process is inherent in human social reality, and has been going on for thousands of years, at least, and will continue.
What people need, to support that process, is spaces. Physical spaces, and that other, more subtle thing we mean when we say “space holder.”
What people need is hospitality.
I think there might be something of interest here for those who feel called to “teach” or help others. Rather than “teaching,” like a professor with a chalkboard, what if you were hosting? Making space, holding space, keeping people warm and fed and hydrated and safe; is that not a better model for how spiritual practice is encouraged, deepened, and developed?
༺ 𐂂 ༻
In the Provisional Manual of West Coast Tantrik Psychedelic Druidry (which you can buy and read — https://smallfires.cc/store), I listed four roles I had noticed in psychedelic circles and meditation halls: the Space Holder, the Fire Keeper, the Water Bearer, the Door Watch. In an act of total arbitrary poetry, I assigned them to the four directions: Space Holder in the North, Fire Keeper in the South, Water Bearer in the West, Door Watch in the East. To me, the axial directions seem more solemn and otherworldly, the rotational directions more goofy and interactive. The Space Holder’s awareness fills the room and goes beyond; the Fire Keeper attends to a presence that is not human. The Water Bearer (also cook and server; in our circles, for reasons lost in the mists of time, we call this person Franz the Psychedelic Butler) visits participants where they are and helps them with their needs; the Door Watch keeps track of comings and goings and keeps time.
In a zendo you can find these same four. The roshi, mentioned above, performs rituals and, well, holds space. The tanto or “head of practice” maintains the vibe. The tenzo, cook (and serving crew, if there are enough participants), makes the meals and serves them — this position is one of honor. There are many Zen stories in which cooks have the last word, and one of Dōgen’s most famous texts is the tenzokyokun, “Instructions for the Cook.” And the ino sits at the door and watches like a hawk. The ino is also in charge of the doanryo, who ring the bells and light the incense; but in a small zendo the ino does all these jobs.
They turn up, also, at dance parties. The DJ is ultimately responsible for holding space. But the sound person manages the more than human force that fills the space. The tea crew are there, all night long, making conversation, pouring tea, and helping people who may be having a difficult time. And the door crew keep everyone safe and enforce the rules. It would be weird, a total buzzkill, if the DJ got on the mic and started telling people what to do; and when the tea bros fuck with the soundboard, things go sideways. Principle in there.
Anyway this is all just one way of dividing it up. My point is that building, maintaining, and heating physical spaces for communities to discover and deepen their practice together — designing, facilitating, and vibecrafting events that take place within those spaces — and feeding, keeping safe and goofing around with the participants — all these are, I think, better ways to understand the roles of “senior students.” As I said in the thread at the beginning, we need way fewer bad teachers, and way more good students — and the best students are those that are hospitable to each other.